


Whose Fault the Blood

by thewightknight



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age II
Genre: Confrontations, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-12
Updated: 2015-09-12
Packaged: 2018-04-20 09:45:00
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 731
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4782830
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thewightknight/pseuds/thewightknight
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Hawke returns to report to Meredith on the fate of the three escaped mages.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Whose Fault the Blood

“I’m led to believe that Huon and Evelina are dead. Unfortunate, but necessary. It seems, however, that we have still heard nothing of Emile de Launcet.”

“I let him go. He’s no harm to anyone.” Hawke braced herself for the outburst, was surprised when Meredith simply sighed, and started pacing behind her desk.

“Mages can tell slippery lies. You are a fool to believe that Emile is anything but a serpent in disguise,” Appropriate she used the word “serpent,” Hawke thought, with the venom dripping from her voice.

“Forgetting that I’m a mage again, are we?” Hawke shot back. “And Emile wasn’t dangerous. Have you ever even met the boy? The fact that he escaped was enough, I suppose. Maker forbid any being wants to spend a minute outside of these walls and out from under your bootheel.”

Meredith scowled, and raised her voice in response. “I have not forgotten for one minute what you are, Champion. Any blood that this mage sheds will be on your head.”

Frustrated, Hawke yelled back. “The blame for everything Kirkwall’s mages have done can be laid at your feet. Look at the way you treat them. Is it any wonder they’re so desperate?”

Meredith sighed, rubbing her forehead. “I have heard this argument often. ‘Mages are not corrupt.’ ‘Maybe they deserve leniency.’ ‘Maybe they can be saved.’ There are maybes enough to fill half the graves in Kirkwall. I will not add more to the pile. Enough. I have not the patience to argue with you further.” She turned, her back to Hawke, arms crossed in front of her, an obvious dismissal. 

Hawke knew she should go, but the words started spilling out of her of their own volition.

“You’re wrong, Meredith. I’m standing in front of you, a living breathing example of everything wrong in what you just said. I have seen my home destroyed. I have seen my sister and my mother die in front of my eyes. I have lived for over a year in the worst poverty you could imagine. I have spent weeks fighting my way through hordes of darkspawn and demons. I have nearly died more times than I have fingers on which I could count. But you know what I haven’t done? I haven’t lived every second of my life with Templars breathing down my neck, punishing me for the least infraction, telling me I’m evil, a mistake of the Maker, hated and feared. I haven’t been hounded for signs of forbidden magic or demon influence my entire life. I have lived all of my years free of everything you stand for, and I have become a powerful mage completely outside of the Chantry’s influence. And I am whole, untouched by blood magic or possession. I am the proof that your words are a lie.”

Meredith’s back stiffened, but she didn’t turn, wouldn’t acknowledge Hawke’s words. Hawke sighed, suddenly tired, all the night’s senseless carnage catching up with her at once. 

“When this city is bathed in blood, know that it is entirely your fault. Knight-Commander.” She clicked her heels together, bowed mockingly to Meredith’s back, and left Meredith’s office. 

Her words must have carried through the closed door. The Templars stationed in the hallway all looked a bit white around the eyes. Isabela and Varric were grinning openly. And Fenris? There was no interpreting the look he gave her. After all these years she was still guessing what went on in his head.

Isabela broke the silence. “Well I don’t know about the rest of you, but I am so hot and bothered right now.”

Varric chuckled and Fenris grunted, still inscrutable.

“Come on. Let’s get out of here,” she said, and they fell in beside her as she started walking. 

Varric was still grinning, and he had that look on his face she had learned to fear.

“You will not put that into your next book, Varric. I forbid it,” she warned.

“But it’s such a great speech! The plucky hero facing off against the evil tyrant! The impassioned plea against oppression!” 

“No, Varric.” He shook his head, still smiling. “No. Absolutely not. I know where you live.”

“Such threats. You wound me.” The dwarf clutched his chest theatrically.

“I will.” Hawke put on her best scowl, which only caused Varric to laugh again. 

“Come on, Champion. You need a drink,” 

“You’re buying?”

“I’m buying.”

**Author's Note:**

> (Yes, I stole a line from Anders' dialog for Hawke.)
> 
> Feel free to come say hi over on [tumblr](http://thewightknight.tumblr.com/).


End file.
